


Noel

by Red_Tigress



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avengers as Kids, Christmas, Drabbles, Gen, implied child neglect, implied domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 02:59:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2835545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_Tigress/pseuds/Red_Tigress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A drabble about Christmas in the eyes of five young Avengers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Noel

Natasha ran her small fingers across the seams in the window that was leaking cold air. In the room she shared with nine other girls it was the only window, but it was big. The holiday of Christmas itself didn’t mean much to her, but she liked to sit at the window when the other girls had gone to bed and look at the lights that the shops on the street were decorated with. They were mostly white, the only kind most Russians could get. A few shops had painted windows and some people even put candles in the apartment windows. The lights warmed her heart that few things did these days.

She pulled her thin sweater more tightly around her shoulders and leaned to put her ear against the glass. When it was quiet enough, she could hear the choir in the church on the corner singing. They sung more now than at any other time of year.

She had vague memories of her mother taking her to Church on Christmas eve, listening to the beautiful music that their own church members would sing. But she couldn’t be sure they were real. She never could these days. It seemed like maybe it was something her mother would do…

She shivered. She couldn’t allow herself to think like that. It was dangerous and it was how she would die. Still…

She watched as below on the snow covered street an older woman came out of a shop and hugged a younger man, before kissing him on both cheeks. They walked down the street together, the young man handing her a colorfully-wrapped package.

Maybe, just this once, she could pretend her memory was real.

* * *

 

Clint tore open the newspaper wrapping eagerly. Underneath was a thick manila envelope, which he opened slightly more gently. He couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he pulled bright yellow, green and blue comics out, their characters looking like they were ready to leap off the pages.

“Merry Christmas, kid,” Barney said from where he sat across from Clint on the storage train car.

Clint’s brow wrinkled in worry. “Barney, how did you get these?”

Barney shrugged. “Saved up. Don’t worry about it.” He looked off to the side, but Clint didn’t notice. Instead, Clint’s eyes welled up.

“I didn’t get you anything.”

Barney snorted, turning back to face him. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t really care about Christmas anyway. Sides, I knew you were busy.”

It was true. Trickshot had been working Clint really hard lately, including through most nights. Clint took to the topmost comic off the pile. It was the most anyone had ever given Clint at one time. The issue in his hands now was a Howling Commandos issue, and he flipped through it happily. “This is so cool!”

Barney suddenly leaped forward, tackling his little brother and getting him into a headlock where he rubbed his hair affectionately. “I knew you were a nerd!”

Clint growled, shouting “Stop!” but he was also giggling because Barney was tickling him now.

They froze when the door of the car slammed open.

Trickshot stood there, his eyes floating over the two Bartons before they scanned the pile of comics. For a moment, Clint was terrified Trickshot would make him throw them away, but then his eyes came back to Clint’s.

“Be ready for training in 30 minutes.”

“But…but the train is moving,” Clint said.

“Did I stutter?”

Clint’s eyes fell to the floor. “No, Sir.” He was ashamed his brother had seen him corrected by Trickshot. He angrily pulled himself free from his brother’s embrace.

Trickshot gave a _hrmph_ , but left without saying anything else.

“I…better go,” Clint said, scooping up his comics.

“Clint,” Barney grabbed his wrist. “Don’t let him talk to you like that, okay? Don’t ever let anyone talk to you like that.”

“Yeah, okay,” Clint said quietly.

“I mean it,” Barney said, and for a moment, something in his voice made Clint very fearful.

Clint gulped and nodded.

“I got your back, bro. Don’t forget it.”

Clint nodded again. “I know, Barney.”

Barney smiled letting go of his wrist. “We’re family. That’s what it’s all about.”

* * *

 

Bruce stood in the doorway of his mother’s bathroom, watching as she covered up fresh bruises on her face with makeup. She saw him watching and smiled gently. “Just a minute, baby. Are you all ready to go?” Bruce nodded silently. He and his mom getting a Christmas tree was a holiday tradition.

Sometimes when Bruce wasn’t studying or reading he sat with his parents to watch a Christmas movie on tv. It was one of the only times his Dad was quiet. Bruce began to resent every holiday movie they ever watched. They all just seemed so fake. None of the families on tv were ever like Bruce’s family.

So he didn’t like Christmas. Not more than any other day, anyway. He indulged his mom when she wanted to do stuff like get a tree, and put up lights, because it was important to her.

And she was the one person who was important to Bruce.

The parking lot where they picked out their tree had lights strung up on wooden beams where they held the trees up. The snow had been lightly falling for a few hours and for a moment, Bruce stood transfixed at the world around him. The sky was reflecting the light from the town below, so it looked pinkish-orange. The snow muffled the sound from the nearby road so Bruce felt like he was entrapped in hos own snowglobe. It was never like that in the movies.

“Bruce!” He looked over, and his mom was smiling, pointing to a tree. To Bruce, it looked perfectly frosted, and his mom looked beautiful next to it framed by snow and illuminated by soft lights.

Maybe this was the feeling those movies were always striving for.

* * *

 

Tony’s mother liked to take him to the annual lighting of the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree. Tony was excited his mom actually wanted to do something with him. Usually she went to adult-only parties, and his father pretty much never had time for him between the company and work.

His mother had gotten them good seats in the seats right up next to the tree. Tony watched in wonder as the tree was lit up. There was a sort of magic to it, listening to the people around cheer and sing, as they let balloons float up into the air. His mother held his hand tightly, but when Tony looked into her eyes, she seemed aloof and away.

That in itself wasn’t unusual. Tony was used to his mother’s….episodes, as his father called them. His mother leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Wait here a moment, my darling. There’s someone I need to speak with.” She kissed him on the head then got up. Tony tried to follow her with his eyes, but she was easily lost in the crowd.

He turned back to the tree, kicking his feet on the chair and studying the ornaments. People around him were starting to empty out of the stands. A few gave him odd looks, but no one spoke to him. Finally, Tony was alone, with the exception of some of the event staff cleaning up the stands around him. He looked through the crowd again, but still didn’t see any sign of his mother.

It had been more than an hour. Tony hopped off the chair, wandering down to the storefronts. Other people passed him, and a few gave him odd looks, but no one stopped him. He couldn’t find his mother anywhere. He sat down on a bench next to the ice skating rink, watching families and couples skating, laughing as they plowed into each other. Tony shivered, in the cold. He’d been out here a long time.

Had his mom forgotten about him again? Tony looked at the tree, the feeling it gave directly conflicting with the nagging worry in his head. How long had it been? He wasn’t sure. His mother would come back eventually, wouldn’t she? It was Christmas, after all. Even as he thought it, he knew in his heart it wasn’t true. She had forgotten him before, it wasn’t really surprising it was happening now.

Tony fell into a trance as he watched his breath frost over in front of his face. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, but he jumped when there was a tap on his shoulder.

“Come on, Anthony. It’s time to get you home.” He turned towards the familiar voice. Jarvis was holding his arms out to him, and Tony turned into them, burying his face into Jarvis’ soft wool coat.

“I wish she wouldn’t forget me, Jarvis,” Tony whispered.

Jarvis held him tighter. “I know, Anthony.”

* * *

 

“Punk, wake up, let’s go!” James banged his fist against Steve’s apartment door. He had made sure to get here early so they could be on time for Christmas mass. It was the first Christmas since Steve’s mother had died, and Bucky had promised he’d go with him. While not very religious himself, James knew it was important to Steve.

“Come on, Steve! Giddyup!” There was a harsh coughing from inside. “Steve?”

“One-” Another cough. “One sec!” James heard a shuffling from inside, and frowned. He tried the knob on the door, and wasn’t surprised when it opened easily.

“Steve, you gotta lock this, I’ve told you…” He trailed off, seeing Steve hanging onto a chair, a blanket wrapped around his bare shoulders. Steve was fighting for breath, and Bucky instantly moved behind him, rubbing circles on his back. 

“I still wanna go, Buck,” Steve breathed, knowing what James was thinking before he said it.

James sighed. “Steve, you can hardly stand.”

“Buck, please,” Steve looked up at him. “Can you just help me? We don’t…don’t even have to stay that long.”

James clapped Steve on the shoulder. “Yeah. Alright.” He moved the few feet to the bed where there was a single shirt layed out. He took it, moving back to Steve and gently taking the blanket off his shoulders. His friend shivered as James helped him into his shirt. He gave him a gentle nudge. “Stand up straight so I can tie your tie.”

Steve did, and James grabbed the tie off the kitchen table. “You didn’t have to do this, Bucky,” Steve said quietly as James looped the tie around his neck. “It…means a lot.”

James gave him a crooked grin. “You don’t have to say it, punk. I already know.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. I'm still working on "Ripples", but I've just had a really rough semester. Please leave some love it you liked it, and Happy Holidays! As always, you can find me on tumblr at redtigress.


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